My Manic and I 2: Truth and Lies
by MollyElfie
Summary: (sequel to My Manic and I) Molly and Sherlock have finally gotten it together. However, how long will Sherlock have to wait until he can see all his other loved ones again and will this affect Molly and Sherlocks relationship? Whats in store for the duo this time? I do not own anything related to BBC's Sherlock. That all belongs to Moffat and Gatiss etc. but what i would give...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1, Molly and Sherlock on their way back from the lake district, back to Molly's House and some more Sherlolly action ;)

I apologise if I don't quite capture sherlock, perfectly, this is only my second fic and I've never written as sherlock before. But I would much appreciate comments and criticisms :) - Thank you x

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Chapter 1

**Sherlock**

I wasn't just that Mycroft knew. As I had said, on many an occasion, Mycroft _was_ the British government. So, if the British government knew, It wouldn't be long until everyone else did.

That was definitely some sort of weight lifted. I hated being alone (most of the time). Of course I wasn't alone now. I had Doctor Molly Hooper as my 'Companion' (as she put it). I had told her I loved her, and I do; nevertheless, having a 'Companion' isn't the same as having John. I was never going to make Molly run around after criminals with me. Stare death in the face. No. She was _far_ too precious to risk loosing. John was precious too, of course, but not in a such a _precious _way. If he was shot in the arm, leg or in any other body part, I could get over it (as long as it didn't kill him), fairly quickly. However, if Molly were to be shot, God knows how I would cope. I would be in some sort of ridiculous state of trauma and grief for at least a couple of months.

I winced slightly at my own weakness.

The past few months had been unstable, however, to think now that there was now a light a the end of this (what had seemed, a couple of weeks ago, endless) tunnel of loneliness and solitude increased that small feeling of hope within me.

I looked over at Molly. She was scrutinising the passing scenery with furrowed eyebrows. The hoodie (which was far too big for her, but suited her immensely), that I had worn on the way up, was laid across her lap like a blanket.

"Do you want anything to drink, or eat, Molly?" I asked. I was going to buy myself a small snack for lunch. Molly's eating habits; which she had drilled into me after I became wearily thin a few months previously; were more normal to me now. I could probably go without, however I thought that I would almost probably upset or worry Molly if I didn't.

"A tea would be nice, please." She replied, smiling at me gently.

I walked through several carriages until I reached the small Kiosk/Cafe. A couple, about a similar age to Molly and I, were ordering.

"What will you have, chooeybums?" enquired the man, cooing at his fully grown, other-half as if she were a newborn baby.

"Ooh, I haven't a clue." Replied the woman in a squeaky, immature and irritable voice.

"Um...I think I'll have the...Oh no, actually I'll have the...no..."

Oh for Pete's Sake.

"I'll just have what dumdums is having!"

"Two Colas and a large packet of skittles." Finalised the man. As one of the bar staff got their order, the girl who was working behind the counter asked me in a drone-y tone, what I would like. She obviously didn't want to be working here. She was at least 16 and thought she had better things to do than earning a minimum wage at a Kiosk on a train.

"I'll have a tea and this." I said abruptly, placing the banana onto the counter. I tried to keep my face as hidden as possible, without looking suspicious. I should have really made Molly go, however, she seemed to be comfortable and settled where she was and I wasn't going to uproot her.

The attendant passed me Molly's watery tea and the banana and I paid her the due amount. As I walked back to my seat, for some reason all I could see were couples. I didn't know whether there were genuinely _lots_ of couples on this train, or I was just noticing them more. As I now know how being in a relationship of this sort feels like and what it entails, I began to realise that I didn't find many of the things I previously found strange and inconceivable, as profoundly so. The pet-names and cooing - perfectly demonstrated by the couple at the bar - I still found vulgar and practically sick-making, however the kissing seemed understandable. It wasn't exactly a horrible experience. To be perfectly honest, I thought I was quite good at it. I hadn't had much practice, however there is always some sort of science behind everything, and kissing wasn't an exception. Holding hands; I still had some doubts on, however as being as close to Molly as possible did have it's advantages.

I reached where she was sitting and just as I put the tea down, I noticed she was asleep. The gentle rocking of the train had probably triggered her snooze, also, neither of us had gotten much sleep last night. That was another thing I didn't mind about _this_ sort of relationship, I pleasantly enjoyed _that. _

All in all, it had been a long couple of days.

I sat down next to her, pulled the large hoodie that was on her knees around her shoulders and added my coat for extra comfort. She looked charming with her hair falling across her face and a silent yet content expression on her features. As I tucked my coat around her, I placed a kiss on the top of her forehead and settled myself next to Molly.

My Molly.

**Molly**

"Wake up Molly..." was the first thing I heard after my apparent slumber on the train. I opened my bleary eyes and Sherlock was staring down at me, brushing wisps of hair out of my face.

"Where are we?"

"St. Pancras Station." He replied. I had slept that whole time? Well, who could blame me, I had had a very eventful night.

Sherlock had put his coat around me like a blanket and was now taking it off again. I didn't really want to move from my seat or be back in London. I was surprised at how well Sherlock was taking being back here. Normally, he would probably just be off his face on drugs by now or if not, very close to doing so.

He was getting our bags from the overhead storage and I got up out of my curled position on the seat.

One of the main reasons I din't want to be back in London was because, in that house, I didn't have to pretend. Neither did Sherlock; however, I felt more confident around him there. I don't know whether it was _actually _because I was back in London or because there were definitively more people around, however, I felt as if I should hold back on the romantic gestures and the 'gazing-wistfully-at-him' that I had tended to do when we had been alone. I also felt as if I should be wearing some sort of disguise, or hiding my face.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I got up onto my feet again and pulled on the excessively large, hoodie that was on my lap. I grabbed my bag that Sherlock handed me and we stepped onto the platform of St. Pancras.

"Home." Sherlock said, breathing in deeply. I smiled briefly at him as he looked down at me and grabbed his hand to make him move from the bustling crowd that was filling the platform.

We walked up a couple of flights of stairs and managed to reach the platform for the Hammersmith & City line to Baker Street from St. Pancras. We hopped on the train and waited a couple of stops. When we got off at Baker Street, I immediately felt Sherlock tense up. He had to be careful. This road carried so many memories. I lived at 142 Gloucester Place, just around from 221b itself.

It had been hard for Sherlock living so close to his friends and past. However he had coped, initially. Now, though it seemed as if the reunion of Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes wasn't so far out of reach. We stepped out onto the busy London high street and walked with the crowd. I was on look out, Sherlock kept his head down. If John or Mrs Hudson caught a glimpse of me they would most definitely want to have a word and they would also want to know who the brooding stranger was that seemed to be oh-so-fond of me. We had to risk it, we crossed over and I tried to just keep walking, however, as soon as we came across the door of number 221b, Sherlock stopped, I tugged at his sleeve to make him move, however, he was big and I was small and my actions were useless. I stood next to him, staring at the door too. I looked around the front of the house and there, withered by the rain, tied to the front fence was a small, handwritten poster. I could just make out a photo of Sherlock in his unmistakable deerstalker and the black, felt tip writing read: 'SHERLOCK HOLMES WAS REAL': running down the weather-beaten page. I tapped Sherlock on the shoulder, he looked round and I held the paper flat so he could see it. The weakened expression he wore after seeing the house was lifted and he smiled, gently at me.

"See Sherlock, I'm not the only one who believes in you." I barely whispered at him. Making sure anyone else couldn't possibly hear. He kissed me on the cheek and we walked back to my flat abruptly. I thought I heard someone call his name as we turned the corner onto Ivor Place, however no one was there as I looked back.

**Sherlock**

Molly insisted she opened the door.

It was only a matter of seconds after we got inside her flat.

I wasn't completely sure how, but after taking her coat, I had her pressed up on the kitchen counter, with far more than her coat missing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Molly is back at work and developments on a certain case... -

I'd be very glad of any comments or criticisms that you guys have for me :) thanks x

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Chapter 2

I rolled onto my back with a huff, having just exhausted every inch of my being in pleasing Molly and myself. I felt that I had done a good job. She seemed pretty satisfied. Well, at least her heavy and scattered breathing told me so.

"Well done Sherlock, a lot better." She said as she slapped my bare stomach in appreciation.

**Molly**

That was bloody magnificent. Saying otherwise was an utter understatement. Nevertheless, I had to. If he got on his high horse about this (something he'd only just begun to understand and do) then I would never have any authority in this relationship.

"Well done Sherlock, a lot better." I said, slapping his taught and surprisingly muscular stomach.

He didn't work out did he?

The look on his face was also why I needed to understate him.

His eyebrows furrowed and, was that a pout? Was Sherlock Homes pouting? He looked so confused, lost even.

"What do you mean 'better'? He asked, looking at me very intently, tilting his head to see me from all angles.

"Well, you know," I said, pulling the crumpled sheets over my shoulder. I was playing hard to get.

HA! I laughed to myself. I never thought that I would _ever,_ ever play hard to get. I was not that sort of person. Especially with Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

I turned over; my back facing him. I let the sentence hang in the air. Waiting for his reaction.

Sherlock got up off of his back and placed his arms either side of me, like a cage, pinning me to the bed.

"No, I don't 'know'." He imitated

"It was only your second time Sherlock, you'll improve."

I gave him a look from the side. All I wanted now was some sleep. I pressed my face into the pillow and laid flat on my front. I could almost feel Sherlock's brain ticking until he bent down and kissed my shoulder and the nape of my neck.

"Practice makes perfect..." He murmured into my skin.

I pushed him off and over next to me.

"Don't push it Sherlock. If you want to stay in this bed, you'll do what I say. Now, go to sleep." I leaned over and punctuated my telling-off with a kiss on his forehead. I turned the light out and felt his arms wrap around me as we both drifted off.

**The next morning - Sunday - 9:10**

I was the first one up surprisingly. I had needed less sleep than I had thought. I got dressed in the first thing I pulled up off of the floor.

Sherlock's best light blue shirt. It smelt good. It smelt of him.

The shirt came down to mid-thigh on me and was almost like a dress. I pulled open my knicker drawer as silently as I could. Sherlock was still passed-out on the bed. He was taking up most of the space, his legs and arms sticking out in random places.

He had been the other part of why I had woken up earlier than expected. He sort of pushed me out. I wasn't used to having someone as big and strong and tall and grumpy-if-I-woke-him-up, in my bed.

I put my knickers on and walked into the kitchen. It was messier than I thought I'd left it.

Oh. I had forgotten. Now, I saw the coats and scarves and shoes strewn in random places and there was some cutlery that had been knocked to the floor from our shenanigans last night. Sherlock's favourite suit was still hanging over the back of his chair, and the blanket I had been wrapped in when he came home to take me away was still crumpled on the sofa. I decided to make a start of clearing things up. I put Sherlock's suit on top of my drawers so that he could wear it today, I folded up the blanket that was on the sofa and hung it over the arm, I then gathered all our clothes that were cluttering the flat and put them in the washing basket and finally tidied up the cutlery that was on the floor. Ah, a tidy flat at last.

It had been a long time since it only took that much to make it clean.

I turned on the radio as I started to make breakfast. Radio 2. Some song by _Coldplay_ had just finished playing as I tuned in. Expecting to hear the familiar excitement of Chris Evans' voice giggling about last night's telly or asking small children what they had done for the first time this week, I was rather surprised to be welcomed with;

'Hello and Good Morning to all those who have joined us on this fine Easter Sunday and now..."

Easter Sunday. I had forgotten about that. I had been swept along with everything else in my life at the moment (my thoughts drifted to the bedroom for a second, where the distraction was laying, sprawled, on my sheets) that I had no reason to keep track of time. It could be Christmas for all I knew.

That was probably a reason why David had been so lax about me leaving so abruptly a couple of days previously, no one else was there and it was nearly half-term anyway.

Also, Mycroft.

I should have really been paying more attention to what Sherlock deduced when we had been caught. **'Hello Mycroft, Ah, Easter break is it?'**; those had been his words before we were shouted out of the building. I would be allowed one more day off for this. At least until Monday. I was pushing my luck slightly, I had already been gone for 2 days now, however, just one more full day with Sherlock and no one else. No one else to worry about. I could just put off the hiding and pretending for _one more day._

My toast had popped and I was piling it high with peanut butter when Sherlock walked in the room. He was wearing his boxer shorts and his best dressing gown was loosely hung around him. He was breathtakingly similar to the first time I had seen him after being on drugs; hair was sticking to his face and he looked crumpled from sleep. However, he looked less deathly, he was healthier and somehow, more magnificent. He ran a hand through his hair, pulled his dressing gown around him and walked over to his armchair to sit down.

"Good morning Mr. Holmes." I smiled, biting at my toast and putting a spoon of coffee into my cup. I got a happy-ish grumble back as he looked in my general direction. How could his brain work so quickly after waking up?

His hands were steepled beneath his chin and he rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. He was looking into space.

"Molly you look gorgeous this morning."

I nearly choked on the piece of toast I was chewing.

"Tha-You-Wha-?" I stumbled.

Before I could even utter a proper response, Sherlock was striding over to me in an almost vicious manner, across the coffee table and disregarding the sofa, until he came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

"My shirts suit you. You should wear them more often."

"Sherlock!" I responded, mockingly shocked, "Have you got some sort of sordid fetish for me wearing your clothes?!"

I turned around in his arms, staring at him sternly in the eyes. He bowed his head onto the top of mine and laughed into my hair.

"Make me a tea Molly,"

**Sherlock**

It wasn't just because she was wearing my clothes. I knew her figure now, knew how perfect it was underneath clothes. They seemed like some sort of inconvenience now.

Nonetheless, That tone of light blue matched her skin eloquently. The size of it made sure it fell in _all _the right places. The fact it rode up slightly at her bum, showing off more of her leg. Molly's normal clothes swamped her, they did the opposite of everything this shirt did.

I had said before that her breasts were small, however now I had seen them in all their glory, they were just right. All she needed to do was to show them off more.

I wasn't that I wanted to change her, I just wanted to exhibit her assets. Show her off. Nevertheless, the showing off would have to wait for now. Well, at least until I had someone to show her off to.

"I'm going to have a shower Sherlock." Molly told me as she handed me my tea. I got up to follow her, assuming what she meant was 'we're going to have a shower Sherlock.' Just before she got to the bathroom, she turned around and gave me look very similar to the one she'd given me last night;

"Just me Sherlock. _I _just want a shower, a nice _calm_ shower. By _myself_."

'Oh', I thought. My deducing skills were getting rusty. I was getting far to carried away with _other_ things.

I sat back down and sipped my tea. Now that Molly was 'calmly' taking her shower I could start to think without _some _major distractions.

Moran.

How do I defeat you? How do I defeat you and your gang?

My mind palace was whirring.

The web would be made up of anyone and everyone. Bankers to benefit frauds. Criminal masterminds to street corner drug dealers. The main problem was finding a way to disconnect and dismantle the web one by one.

As the bathroom door creaked open, I was interrupted again by Molly. The heady scent of strawberries and coconut shampoo filled my nostrils. It was completely overpowering. It smelt delicious. It smelt of Molly.

Molly.

Molly.

She had an idea. I had ignored it when I had realised my other 'fetish' with her thoughtful face.

"Molly!" I shouted after she closed the bedroom door.

"Yes?"

"What were you saying about defeating Moriarty's criminal web?"

"Wait a sec!" she shouted back in reply. She hadn't heard me for the towel she was using to rub her hair dry had covered her ears. When she had finished, she popped her head round the door;

"What were you saying?"

"The other day, when I asked you about how you would go about solving my problem. I never got an answer."

"Oh," she said, tousling her hair between her fingers. Sending another wave of strawberries and coconut my way, " I was just going to say that it would be good if you had something to match. A similar 'underground network'."

I stopped. How did I not think of that? Fighting fire with fire. They said It never worked. Oh, how wrong they were. It would work well, if not, magnificently in this case.

"An underground network'. Then I remembered my homeless network. It was as widespread and as 'underground' as anything Moriarty or Moran could conjure up. It may not be as worldwide yet, however strings could be pulled.

Magnificent Molly Hooper. A seemingly mousy pathologist, coming up with _that. _

I was bouncing, up and down in my chair. I sprung myself up onto my legs and hovered above it.

"Yes!" I cheered. "Thank you Molly! You Genius!"

I ran over to her, like an excited child, jetting myself off of the seat. I kissed her firmly on the forehead and ran around the flat, cheering and jumping in the air.

When I finally returned to my seat, I thought and thought.

A development on a case. At last.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - A plan of attack, some old (and new) friends and a secret.

I apologize if there wasn't much Sherlock in this chapter, I just felt that this was a 'molly chapter' :)

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Chapter 3

2 people knew now. Soon it would grow to be far more.

I had told the leading man of my homeless network.

Wiggins.

We were going to figure out our plan of attack.

He was a genius of sorts. He new all the tricks of the trade which came in remarkably handy when one tries to pull down criminal webs etc.

He didn't seem too surprised that I was alive when I'd met him in his usual arch in Baker Street Station. I'd donned the 2-day stubble and hoodie, which had a remarkable effect on Molly.

It also, more importantly, made me virtually undetectable to the wandering eye; I was just another homeless person, aimlessly traveling the streets of London.

I'd explained what I had deduced so far: The web was widespread, it would include high up bankers to benefit claimers. However, we both concluded that something must connect them.

We had no idea what yet, nevertheless, Wiggins said that he knew of a girl that slept in trafalgar square that was a dab hand at computer hacking and that could probably help along those lines, as long as we pointed her in the right direction and gave her the right 'motives'.

All that was to be done now was to get this ball rolling and hopefully, rolling fast.

Molly went back to work in the morning and this meant I had the flat to myself without the constant distraction of her shampoo-smell, the loosely draped shirt or her thinking-face. I could also possibly have Wiggins around (which he would too swiftly oblige to, taking in to consideration the English Easter weather) to discuss more plans and developments.

I knew that Molly wouldn't be too fond of having a homeless man in her flat, so what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

**Molly**

Back to work.

I could almost hear the paperwork calling.

I'm sure that Julie and the rest of the Morgue staff had a fun time thinking up all the possible reasons for my disappearance.

Jesus, I hated them. Hopefully there would be some fresh cadavers for me to cut up when I got back to distract me from them and the work I'd left behind.

I had a shower, got dressed in my most unflattering but comfy slacks and jumper, pulled on my coat, scarf and bag and headed for the door. I closed it and felt my pockets just incase I had forgotten anything.

I had.

A Goodbye kiss.

I know it was silly, however I wasn't going to just let something I had fantasized slightly (okay more than slightly) about for so long slip away. I was _going_ to make this a daily routine. I slipped back in the door. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, his back to me as I came out of the corridor. I don't think he had heard me come in. His hands were still steepled under his chin, he was deep in thought. I came up behind him and whispered in his ear:

"Bye Sherlock." I pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. "I'm off to work now." I tried to contain my usual, inner disbelief that occurred every time I kissed Sherlock Holmes. Now that I was going back in to the 'real' world, so to speak, I found my situation quite frustrating. If I had been in any normal position, I would probably be telling anyone who would listen that I had managed to live with, sleep with, make out with, go on holiday with and fall in love with the world's only consulting detective. All in the wrong order. No one would believe me anyway. Even if he wasn't supposed to be dead.

Sherlock interrupted my train of thought by returning my kiss and my goodbye. I headed back for the door.

No. It wasn't enough. The aching in my belly made me turn around and kiss him goodbye again.

and again and again, until I looked at the clock on the wall and realised I would be seriously late if I carried this on. Sherlock didn't seem to mind my disturbance though. He would be here when I got home. We could carry this on later.

It was lunchtime. I hadn't bought anything to eat so I would have to brave the canteen. I didn't just hate the food, It bought back some seriously awkward memories of secondary school. Being the new girl and having to sit on my own because everyone had their own cliques and friend groups. However much I hated it though, it had to be done.

I queued up to see what abomination of what they call 'food' they were serving up today. Sausage, mash and peas. That didn't seem too bad. Edible at least. My portion cost me £4.50. Really? For that? I reluctantly handed over the due amount and scanned the dining hall for an uninhabited table.

The last one was at the back of the hall. I walked as fast as I could, without looking too eager, across to the it. As I reached my hand out to grab a chair, someone else seemed to have the same idea.

"Sorry." I looked up at them to see whether it was worth the fight. Apparently not, because...it was Dr. John Watson.

"Oh!" We both exclaimed in unison. As I properly took him in, I noticed that he was holding hands with a woman. She was probably a little older than me, she was tall - well, taller than John - she had shoulder-length, cascading, dark brown hair and a big smile. Just after John shook my hand, the woman piped up:

"John? Aren't you going to introduce us?" She had a very friendly, yet commanding tone to her voice.

"Ah, yes, Molly, this is Mary, my, um, my Mary." Mary punctuated his sentence with an excited, two-handed handshake on my part.

"Oh, It's lovely to meet you Molly!"

"How do you know each other?" She asked.

"We-" we both started, I let John continue.

"We know each other through - Sh - Sherlock." His capability with mentioning his name with anyone that didn't understand, fully, had improved. Mind you, he was surrounded by me and his girlfriend so he had the reassurance of understanding.

We all decided to sit down before anyone could take our seats.

I noticed Mary's name badge.

**_Mary Morstan - Midwifery and Natal Care_** **_- St. Bartholemew's Hospital_**

She worked here. John must be meeting her for lunch. How was it that I had never seen her around before? To be honest though, I had never had much cause to venture towards the midwifery department. As long as you didn't count the time when I had remarkably severe period pains and was told that a friend of a friend who was a gynecologist could get me some very good painkillers.

Mary seemed lovely and eager and we talked all lunch. John seemed quite left out. He sat there silently, smiling if I looked over at him. He didn't seem to mind though. It came across that John was absolutely besotted with Mary and likewise with Miss Morstan. I knew that John had never had much luck with ladies. This was mostly down to Sherlock; John wasn't a repulsive person, he was a lovely, caring man and seemed to see the best in most people.

I had never met many of John's girlfriends, apart from that one, dreadful, Christmas party that he bought one to. Everything seemed to fall apart that evening.

Jeanette. As Sherlock had degradingly deduced. I had talked to her that evening after we had both been pulled apart by the 'Great Sherlock Holmes'. She seemed nice, a little clingy and commanding for my liking but still, nice. She didn't deserve _that _anyway. No one did. She broke it off with John that night apparently. It wasn't surprising really.

Nevertheless, after meeting and talking with Mary, I felt this indescribable feeling that she was almost indefinitely the one for him. He was her equal and likewise. Now that John was living alone and wasn't being called off at random moments to investigate crimes, he could commit and Mary came along and was willing to be committed to.

She had many similar qualities to John: A way of being easy to talk to and a brilliant ability to listen and say _all_ the right things. Unlike _some _people I know. A welcoming and kind smile and body language. And a cheeky glint in her eye that you knew meant trouble.

To be perfectly brutal, I think we'd hit it off too. Walking into this canteen _had_ been like being at secondary school. I think for the first time in my working, adult life, I had a friend (best, possibly, if I worked on it). It was pleasant having a break from spending every waking hour with either a corpse or someone so intellectually above you that you'd rather just snog them than embarrass yourself.

We had finished and were walking out of the diner hall.

"Come on Mary," John said, tugging on Mary's sage jumper sleeve. She just kept chatting. It was like she'd been shut up for days. However, I'm sure John would never be so mean to a girl like her.

"Oh Molly!" She sighed dramatically, flinging herself into a hug, around my neck, "Its been so lovely chatting with you! I could go on for days! I never get to meet any of John's friends, if I'd known they were all like you then I would have insisted a long time ago! He is such a loner!" She said, turning to elbow John in the ribs.

"I'll tell you what," I replied, " I'll give you my mobile number. I'm sure that John is getting a tad bored of our squealing. I can talk to you whenever I want then."

We both smiled and giggled as I wrote down my mobile on the back of her hand. John had his head in his hands by this point.

"_Come on Mary!_ You have patients that you have to see. You both do."

"Mine have already died of boredom!" I joked. My jokes normally mustered no more than a chuckle, however Mary seemed to find this the most hilarious thing in the world and was doubled in half with laughter. I liked her even more by the second.

**Sherlock**

This was a good day. A very good day. Four new developments on - what I am now calling - 'The Web Case'. I and Wiggins spent most of the day seated in Molly's living room, talking, agreeing, disagreeing and coming up with ideas on how we could _possibly _take it down. The main idea that I thought would be crucial in any future developments is that we needed to get close to those that were prominent first. It was an easy and logical step. If we picked at them first then the other, more vulnerable ones, would hopefully 'catch on' and dissipate by themselves. Nevertheless, Wiggins put forward that it would possibly work better if we targeted the weaker, but prominent members because even though our 'web' was big, we were considerably outnumbered and would need to figure out a way to make ourselves more intimidating.

**Molly**

The 'ping' of my phone had been a consistent, but not unwanted, soundtrack to my work for the rest of my day. I had texted Mary '**_Goodbye_**' when I packed up at 5:00.

I hopped on the absolutely _heaving _underground. I played around on my phone. Trying to make as little eye contact with strangers as possible. I was scrolling through the contacts, aimlessly when I came across John's number. I hadn't really spoken with him today, _at all_. To be honest I wanted to know more about Mary and John as a couple. Me and Mary actually hadn't gotten any proper gossip done in the whole time we'd been chatting.

I clicked on John's number, selected _'Text John' _and typed:

**_Hello John! It was so lovely to meet you and Mary today! I can't believe how long it has been! What have I missed? - Molly _**

My thumb hit the _'Send' _button without my brain thinking it through until afterwards. I waited a couple of minutes for answer, however on not receiving one in that time zone I thought that my text must have been so misplaced that John must have discarded it.

After about 10 minutes, I did get a reply. It read:

**_Hi Molly. It was lovely to see you too. Although, I thought Mary would have told you everything while you have been warbling away today? - John_**

**_Apparently Not. _**I replied. **_We just spent most of our time talking about how cute Matt Baker's cardigans are and who's our favourite from The Great British Bake Off! You're going to have to spill the beans on you and Mary now! She is such a lovely girl, a lucky one too! - Molly_**

**_Yes, she is isn't she? Sometimes I don't really feel worthy of her. She is so wonderful._**

**_What _****do****_ you want to know on the Mary front? - John_**

-Was the text I got back. I quickly tapped out my reply;

**_Well, How long has it been? Have you met the parents? Are you living together? - Molly_**

I stepped off of the train to Baker Street station. I took the phone away from my nose in order to try and cut my way, more efficiently, through the solid blocks of people in Baker Street station. I pressed send once I was on the escalators.

I got out onto Baker Street and decided to take the bus. I will admit it was only down the road, however, I would be doing a lot of texting and walking across a great, big, busy road like Baker Street would be a bit too risky.

As I waited at the bus stop, just outside the station, my phone beeped again.

**_It has been 4 months and 2 and a half weeks ( I checked with Mary. You don't expect me to remember that, do you?). Yes, I have met the parents. There nice too, obviously they think that no one is good enough for their little girl, however the threat of my previous army training is enough to fend off a bashing from her brothers if anything were to happen to her. Not that it will, because I would never forgive myself. Finally, yes, we are living together. The address is 19 Harley Street, London - Just off Cavendish Place. You should come and visit sometime soon._**

**_(Mary says that is a _****very****_ good idea by the way) - John_**

Oh how lovely. I knew. I just did. They were made for each other. The way that even though I and Mary talked for hours at lunch today, and basically ignored him, he kept silent. He was content. More than content because Mary was.

That was the way it was supposed to be.

Then I realised.

He was living with Mary. He was no longer living at 221b. No one was. Sherlock didn't pay the rent and neither did John. It would have been put up for sale now. Had Mycroft got all of Sherlock's stuff? Where had it gone?

Sherlock wasn't going to like this. Not one bit.

My bus had arrived and I squashed in. Maybe I should have walked. I stood at the front and wrapped my spare arm around a pole and into my coat pocket, to stop myself from going, flying through the window. I typed out with one hand:

**_Oh! Brilliant! I'm so pleased for you! I will definitely take up the offer to come and see you when single life, alone, gets too much fun! _**- Oh the lies I tell! - **_Seriously though, well done John. It looks like Mary is a keeper. Is there anything else I should know? - Molly _**

I got off at my stop, outside my house and walked to the front step. I waited for a reply. I didn't want to go in until I knew I had all the facts.

I waited about 5 minutes for my next answer. Then it came.

**_Molly. Me and Mary have just decided to tell you. Only you. _**Oh jesus, I thought. What could it possibly be? **_We haven't even told Mary's parents yet. However, you are someone we both admire and trust. You were with me when Sherlock died and you knew, more than anyone, the pain I was going through. _**

**_Me and Mary are engaged to be married. Hopefully the ceremony will be in 4-5 weeks time. I hope you'll come. Some of our oldest friends will be there. Its a shame Sherlock won't though. I had always seen him as my best man. I basically just wanted to see him give a speech, dress in a monkey-suit and have to be nice to people._**

**_Anyway, You must promise not to tell anyone until we say so. Thank you so much. - John. _**

Wow. Okay. I was being trusted with a secret. A proper secret (as long as you didn't count Sherlock's 'death') I was immensely pleased with myself. I'd never knew that I had meant so much to John. We'd really only properly bonded after Sherlock died. I mean, while he had been 'alive' I used to keep forgetting John's name. Now he was telling me that I was the only person besides him and Mary that knew about their engagement.

My thoughts flitted to the flat for a second. If Sherlock didn't like the idea of 221b being empty, he most definitely wouldn't like this.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Some Sherlolly Shampoo Senarios and Serious Sherlolly :)

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Chapter 4

I stuck my key in the door and bashed hard on it with my shoulder. It seemed to expand in cold weather.

I hurried inside, climbing the steps up to my flat. I turned the key in my own door and opened it to hear the plucking of violin strings.

He heard me come up behind him and kissed me soundly. My hands reached up to his hair. It was damp.

"You can spend as long as you want kissing me now Molly." He whispered, darkly into the recess of my neck.

I would have taken him up on his offer - absolutely - had it not been for two things on my mind.

"Sherlock, why does your hair smell of my Shampoo?"

I pulled back from his embrace to look at his face while he answered me.

"I washed my hair with it. Surely thats not to much of an 'amazing' deduction."

He leaned back in, kissing me. Rather forcefully.

The scent filled my nostrils again.

It was a strange scent on a man. Especially a man like Sherlock.

Before I had gotten so close to him (in so many ways), I imagined him to smell of deodorant and musk, like every other man. However, his actual scent was far more appealing. He smelt of old books, fresh cotton and for some reason, slightly, of tangerines. It was my utmost, favourite thing, waking up and smelling him. When I changed the pillows once, I buried my face, deep, in his one. Taking in every little scent-bud that was there.

So, having him smell like me just wasn't cutting it.

"Yes, Sherlock." I asked after he finished kissing me, "What I _want_ to know is why? _Why _would you wash your hair with _Ladies'_ shampoo? My shampoo."

"Because I find the smell relaxing. As you weren't here today, I took the liberty upon myself of carrying that scent on my own body."

He raised one of his eyebrows; as if to say "why else?!". He also was looking down at me. He pulled me closer.

"Would you like to smell it some more?"

Sherlock dipped is head down. His long, coconut-and-strawberry-shampoo-ridden curls were brushing my face in random places, as was his mouth.

"No." I half said, half choked. Pulling away from his sweet embrace. I just had to tell him about the second thing on my mind. The considerably more important thing.

I nervously brushed myself off and straightened myself out.

Sherlock looked very perplexed and I felt sorry for leaving him like that. He was very eager. I was told this by the rather obvious bulge in his jeans.

You didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out.

"I have something to tell you." I admitted. I wasn't keeping this from Sherlock. Not ever. I knew; having spent a reasonable amount of my time reading relationship columns; for one, you never lied if you wanted to keep a relationship going. And if I didn't want to keep this going, what hope was there for me anywhere else? Also, I knew, just from knowing Sherlock, that there was nothing on this earth that would make you even think you could lie to him. Nothing.

I looked back at Sherlock. He saw the nervous look in my eye.

He knew how to handle it.

He grabbed one of my hands, spun me into him, as if we were dancing (and god knows he can dance) and then we plopped down on the sofa, so that I was arranged, sitting, cradled in his lap.

"Tell me." He said, playing with the hair he had caused to come loose from my ponytail.

"I met John at work today." I said, incompletely, searching for that look in his eyes whenever John was mentioned. I was going to go as slowly as needed. So as not to hurt him too much.

I didn't find that hurt look.

He looked more hopeful.

The pain was in there somewhere though.

As much as I was shit at it, he was a great liar.

"Carry on," He muttered. "There's more."

"He wasn't alone." I paused. Waiting.

"There was a lady." Nothing yet.

"Her name is Mary. They are together...?" I questioned. This really was more tedious than nerve-racking now.

"Molly," he said suddenly, making me jump. 'I have no idea why you think I would want to concern myself with John's love life. I have never had and never will be interested in those affairs."

"EXCUSE ME?!" I shouted. Those last words he said had made me jump considerably more. They also stung a little.

"Sorry Molly. Not good?"

"No.'

**Sherlock**

Whoops. Note taken. Need to be more selective with my choice of vocabulary around Molly.

**Molly**

"Anyways," I continued, brushing off my surprise,"He's not living at 221b anymore. He's living with M-"

**Sherlock**

"-John hasn't been living at 221b since I'd died. Who would want to live in the flat that used to be home to their best, dead, friend?"

Molly should have thought that through more. She would have understood that, being as overly-sentimental as she was.

John had moved back into the B&B he had been staying at before I had died.

**Molly**

Yes, I supposed that made sense. Really, I was stupid.

Now came the next bit. The more risky, detrimental part.

Silence.

I was forming the words in my head.

Slowly does it...

"Mary and John are lovely Sherlock. They belong together. You should have seen them."

I smiled at the thought of them. He looked at me quizzically. I gulped.

"So this is why you must promise me-"

"Promise you what?" he asked

"You must promise me not to go over there and ruin it."

"Why would I do that?"

Deep breath.

"They're engaged to be married." I tried to smile however, I was suddenly and rather aggressively, shoved of Sherlock's lap and sent stumbling back on to my feet.

"GET OFF."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - (quite a long, chapter - sorry - don't give up now though guys!) this chapter includes a...Sherlolly breather, a visit, and an intense conversation and three words.

sorry if this chapter is toooooo long I apologize , form the bottom of my heart 3 x

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Chapter 5

**Sherlock**

"They're engaged to be married." Those had been her words, right? I never had a tendency for mis-hearing things, however I doubted this tendency now.

John was a Bachelor.

He had never managed to hold up a relationship longer than a couple of months.

He was a 'ladykiller'.

John didn't get settled.

John didn't get engaged.

John didn't get married.

Was this 'Mary' a replacement?

_My_ replacement?

I had seen some sort of change coming. I had expected a move, lifestyle or anything. Anything but this.

How had he managed it? I wanted to know for some strange reason.

Was she weak? Had she been desperate enough for solace and settlement that John had been her resort? Was he weak? Had he been desperate?

The door slammed. Molly had left. She'd taken her coat and rucksack. She would be a while.

I was sorry for pushing her off my lap. She had been comfy there.

Oh.

Oh.

OH.

There it was. That was it.

We had both changed.

I would have never had been able to believe that I would _ever _even consider feelings of even _slight _affection towards anyone.

I couldn't blame John.

I couldn't blame 'Mary'.

I couldn't blame Molly.

I could only blame myself. I had been very slightly idiotic. I had thought that John would never get settled, engaged or married.

He wouldn't have, not while everything was the same.

Not while we were living together, at least.

People used to think we were 'an item'. I used to think that it was their over sensitive, sentimental, minds.

No.

It was far more. They saw that I and John lo-...we did, we loved each other.

Not in the same way I loved Molly.

I said I was married to my work. I was indeed. However, I worked with John. John was my work. I was married equally to him.

I believe that after I fell of the roof of Bart's and I managed to show my feelings to Molly I think a part of me needed to latch on to something to show affection towards, now that John was gone.

Molly had been there and I had feelings for her.

I liked her.

I liked John.

She helped me.

John had helped me.

I had replaced John and John had replaced me.

**Molly**

Bloody wanker. Fucking arsehole. He was terrifying sometimes.

This wasn't how things were supposed to work.

Look at John and Mary.

They were _perfect_.

I _wanted _to be them right now.

I walked into the local _Sainsbury's, _cursing and muttering under my breath. I randomly picked up items and shoved them, angrily, into my basket.

He was totally going to get an earful when I got home.

I deserved to be treated with more respect.

I picked up some nicotine patches.

I reckoned that he wasn't going to be great for at least the next couple of hours. He was just angry at the news that John was going to be married.

I picked up another 2 packets of patches and a large jar of coffee.

Just in case.

However, I was his girlfriend or whatever we'd decided to call each other. I was going to help him.

In went the condoms.

Ah, we had nearly run out.

I paid for everything at the self-service check out (something I always did when buying more intimate items).

After I left, I looked at my watch. It'd only been 10 minutes since I'd left the flat. He definitely needed more time.

I wondered what to do with myself. Retail-Therapy started out well, but got seemingly more stressful as time passed. Also, I only had about 20 pounds in my purse and the closest place was Oxford Street.

I looked back at my phone.

4:26

I needed somewhere to go. An old friend to talk to. Somewhere I am always welcome.

I looked at my phone again.

John had said that I should 'come over sometime' and Mary hadn't despised the idea.

I knew that I had only just spoken to him. Nevertheless, I could conjure an excuse. I was good at that now.

I just needed a place.

I looked across the street.

There was a man selling flowers.

"Flowers and gifts for all Occasions: Weddings, Engagements, Thank-you's and House Warmings."

My excuse was made.

My situation ticked 3 of the four occasions. I needed to say thank you, they were getting engaged and had a new house to 'warm'.

I bought a large bunch of white lilies and snowdrops for Mary a box of brandy-liqueur chocolates for John.

I then, finally, wound my way towards the bus stop.

Only a couple of stops and I would be there.

Finally, The voiceover announced that I had reached my destination.

I looked back over at the text John had sent me;

**_Finally, yes, we are living together. The address is 19 Harley Street, London - Just off Cavendish Place. You should come and visit sometime soon._**

**_(Mary says that is a _****very****_ good idea by the way) - John_**

'19 Harley Street, London - Just of Cavendish Place' , '19 Harley Street, London - Just off Cavendish Place.' - I repeated it to myself like a mantra until I found the right door.

The number nineteen had been newly polished. It was a fairly large house, but was only just slightly larger than Baker Street.

I knocked on the door and waited for someone to open it.

I heard the footsteps and shouts of John;

"I'll get it then!"

He opened it and I stood there, smiling broadly at him.

"Sorry for popping up like this John." I apologised.

"Oh, Molly! Oh no, it's fine really."

"Oh, by the way, John, here's something for Mary. Your present is in my backpack."

I whipped out the flowers. They were swiftly taken from my hand.

"Thank you Molly. You shouldn't have, really. Although, Mary will love these, she's been looking for something to finish off the mantelpiece."

I was taken, slightly off guard by the complete and utter cleanliness of the house.

Everything was either white or cream.

The walls.

The floors.

The stylish, matching sofas and armchairs.

I don't think anyone could possibly find a spot or area of this house that was unclean.

They had been busy.

I had never thought of John as a tidy person; looking at the state of 221b. However, now, standing here it was obvious that it was Sherlock that had no sense of cleanliness. At all.

**Sherlock**

I wasn't going to blame him. Or her for that matter. Dwelling on the fact John had finally found my replacement and was happy without me would just make it harder to stop myself from finding him and telling him I was alive.

God knows how many times I had come close.

The only other problem was Molly. I did love her. I had only told her once and I knew that she knew I felt that way. However, my predicament was the fact that I had replaced John with Molly.

I didn't know whether that when John finally finds out that I am alive, It would simply go back to normal.

Maybe Molly was only temporary.

A part of me yearned for that to never be the case. The part Molly had expanded and given me. My heart.

The other said that It would be better that way. That she distracted me too much and I was forever thinking either about sex, how beautiful she smelt, her 'thinking-face' or her in my shirts. That was my logic. My head.

I decided to do something I very rarely did.

I went with my heart.

She would be fine. We would eventually tell John. He would be fairly surprised at my new found interest and we would move back into Baker Street.

It would all be fine.

**Molly**

I was bought forward through to the extra-cleanly Kitchen, where john offered me a seat at the sleek, modern and shiny dining table.

He went back into the hall where we had come from and shouted - very loudly -

"MAAAARYYY! COME DOWN HEEERRREEE! THERE'S SOMEONE FOR YOU!"

"Alright, alright, alright." She hushed at John as she came down the stairs.

She turned into the kitchen and saw me sitting there, with my coat and backpack.

"MOLLY!"

She ran over and pulled me into a tight hug.

You would have thought that we hadn't seen each other in 3 years; not 3 hours.

"Hello." I said quietly. Trying to soften the noise that Mary seemed to be emitting.

"What _are_ you doing here?" she said once we had released each other from that tight hug.

"Well, I just thought that I might pop by to give you a present. Seeing as you have I new house and are getting married." I gestured towards the kitchen counter, where John had put the Lilies.

Mary squealed and ran over to them, burying her nose into the bunch. She then darted back to me, kissing both my cheeks and saying

"Oh thank you!" she then looked back up from the flowers to me and John. Her expression had suddenly changed.

She looked frightened.

"I'm getting married. I'm getting married. I'm getting married." She repeated. Her eyes flitting between me and the man she was, in-fact, going to be tying the knot with.

It was like the penny had suddenly dropped.

She stared at John and then rushed over to him. She gave him a hearty kiss on the lips and gazed into his eyes.

I felt like I was interrupting something.

"You mad, crazy woman." John tutted back at her.

She gave him a cheeky slap on the thigh and then pulled us both down to sit at the dining table.

"So, Molly..." She started, "Any bloke I should know about that you'll be inviting to the wedding?"

It was like I had been knocked off my seat.

I hadn't been asked, since I and Sherlock had gotten together, about the men in my life. I was now in a bit of a pickle;

Should I risk lying (which I was good but not great at) to John Watson, who, after living with Sherlock Holmes for a fair few years knew how to tell the signs of whether someone was fibbing or not._ Or _did I play a fun game with them, which I would probably be more convincing at than telling a _massive _lie because I did in-fact have a very nice (when he wanted to be) 'bloke' at home that I wish I could take to the wedding with me, because he is a _wonderful_ dancer.

However, as much as I wanted to do the latter, my mouth betrayed me and stumbled across the words:

"N-N-No. Of_ course _not."

**Sherlock**

My phone vibrated.

The familiar drawl on the other end confirmed my suspicions.

**"**Dear Brother...How are you?." He mocked, darkly.

"Yes." I answered plainly, through gritted teeth, "What do you want?"

"Oh, really there is no need to be like that. This phone call was inevitable. Surely you realised that? Or have your deduci-"

" - Just get on with it Mycroft. You've phoned for a reason. Its obviously either because your presumed-dead Brother was at your holiday home, or because the country is in some sort of mortal peril. They're the only two reasons I could possibly think you'd call."

"Well, if you insist. I was just going to ask two things of you. Firstly, have you told him yet?

"Who?"

**"**For goodness sake, Sherlock."

I knew perfectly well who he meant.

"No. I haven't."

"Do you plan on telling him soon?" he droned on. He didn't sound like he particularly cared.

"Possibly. Why does it concern you Mycroft?" I asked, trying to get him to hang up as soon as possible.

"I'm worried about you Sherlock. From what I can tell, it seems you've relapsed in your time off."

Suddenly I was angry, worried - I shouted down the phone;

"WHAT DO _YOU_ MEAN BY_THAT_?!"

I was Shaking. Fuming with rage. How could he possibly know about _that_?

However he annoyingly managed to keep his cool, pompous tone.

"Oh, dear boy, do you honestly think I believe that you and that dreadful young lady were merely sharing a warming embrace? You of all people." He practically spat the words.

I then realised that by relapse he didn't mean with drugs. He meant with Molly.

Speechless, I hung up the phone.

Molly was not '_Dreadful_'.

**Molly**

Mary _and _John both smiled at each other. Knowingly.

"Oh come on. There obviously is." She said, as John poured me a glass of red wine.

"No, there really isn't." I said. Taking a big swig; thinking of a good way to cover my tracks.

"I even said to John - after you both texted me, offering for me to come over - That I would take up the offer when 'single life gets too boring' - isn't that right John?"

"Yes," John replied, gulping down his 'sip' of wine, "I think she just wants to be surrounded by couples so she doesn't feel _so _alone." He joked, I laughed. Mainly at the irony that this whole conversation seemed to have.

I knew where this conversation would end up eventually and I really didn't want it to go there. So, with my expert skills in diverting conversation, I intervened with;

"Oh! John, your present! I nearly forgot!"

"Molly you really shouldn't have..." he moaned.

"No, it's the least I could do, I mean I have a lot to thank you - both of you - for."

John got up to get the bag.

When he returned I zipped open the top and tugged at the plastic bag that the chocolates were wrapped in. It wouldn't budge. I pulled a bit harder and then out flew the contents of the said backpack.

The large coffee Jar plummeted to the floor with a crash. Coffee granules everywhere. Coffee granules, nicotine patches and condoms.

My cheeks burned.

I think I had gone beyond red by now. I was probably nearly purple.

I bent down to try and pick up the more embarrassing items before anyone could properly notice.

Mary had bent down too and was trying to help me. I wish she wouldn't.

We both reached for one of the condoms.

I looked up at her. My cheeks smoldered some more while I tried to look for her response.

"Molly, are you going to tell me that you don't have a boyfriend now?" She smiled, waving one of the offensive, tiny packets in front of my face.

"...Yes...?" I said, exasperated. Realising that there really was no way out of this now.

She pressed the condom into my hand and I decided to hurry, packing away the rest of the items that had fallen onto the floor.

When I got back up again, John was standing, waiting to hand me my glass of wine.

"I didn't know you'd taken up smoking, Molly." He said nonchalantly, pulling out my chair. It took me a second to realise what he was talking about; which must have made me looked rather phased; just staring into space. However, when I did realise, I sort of stammered and spluttered like a broken car. I was trying desperately to restart my brain.

I didn't know what I could possibly say so I just decided on...

"Yes."

"Why?" He asked, looking worried. Mary had come back to sit down now.

I just stared into my wine, wandering how many glasses I could have before I would be sitting perfectly between 'horrendously smashed' and 'still able to walk'.

"The Molly I knew wouldn't have even gone near a smoker, let alone becoming one herself."

John's hand came across the table. It felt as if everyone was suddenly pitting me. The only thing that seemed to make sense inside my brain and that _always_ seemed to stand out was one word:

"Sherlock."

John made a sharp intake of breath and the tension in the room seemed to build dramatically.

Just over 10 months and his name still bought that sort of reaction out of John.

"Oh..." Mary trailed.

She knew I was a friend of Sherlock's. John had introduced me as the latter, the first time we had met today. She had probably been filled in on my infatuation in the time we hadn't been speaking or texting.

"Oh Molly," John pitied, squeezing my hand, "We all miss him. I of all people know that. I wish he were alive,"

Ouch.

"But he's not."

Twist the knife why don't you?

"However much you miss him, that is no reason to give up or lapse. In fact it is a very good reason to be strong. Stronger than ever."

My tears ducts had given up and my face was now lined with tears.

John and Mary both obviously though that this was because I was being homed the 'real truth', however it was just guilt.

Pure and utter, heart wrenching guilt.

I had been covering the tracks of John's friend for 10 or so months now. How much longer was I expected to keep this up?

**Sherlock**

I had been thinking over my brother's question.

When did I intend to tell him?

Molly had told me not to get involved (she hadn't said it but it was what she meant). He was engaged now and was living with his newly found partner.

Domestic Bliss.

I didn't want it to go on for much longer. For the sake of Law and Order to be honest. (well, maybe if I wasn't completely honest)

When Molly and I were traveling back from the Lake District I had felt like there was a 'light at the end of the tunnel'. Like I was somehow, nearing the end of my 'death', like a new page was being turned.

Having Molly at my side seemed to be brilliant and the prospect of having John there too was almost too much too resist.

It is too much to resist.

I knew it was going to happen at some point in the near future.

I didn't have enough resolve to let it carry on for any longer.

It was probably best to set a date for these things. Or at least a time scale which was would justify how many weeks I'd have to wait until it was appropriate to just come out and tell him.

I would talk to Molly.

She always knew how to handle these things.

**Molly**

I really did not know what to do.

I had a very strong urge to just come out and say that he was at my flat. Tell him to go over there and do whatever he felt necessary.

A couple of days ago I had felt closer to their reunion. The trip back from the Lake District had made me feel hopeful.

I hadn't been hopeful in a long time.

Maybe I should? Maybe this was the day?

No.

But...

'No.' I told myself.

However, through a screen of tears,I lost control of all my resolve and I spluttered some words that I had held up inside for a very, very long time.

"He is alive."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 7 - (definitely shorter than the last one!) this chapter includes...Jawn doubt, Molly doubt and another old friend.

* * *

Chapter 6

If the tension in the room was high before, then the tension now was verging on volcanic.

John just stared at me.

His lips had gone into a thin line and his eyes pleaded with me to say something else. Anything.

He moved his eyes from my face to the backpack full of shopping.

Coffee and Nicotine patches.

The two things that were strongly associated with our dear friend.

Dr. Watson here could easily put together the clues. It was just a matter of whether he wanted to.

I stared longingly at him, tears still coursing down my cheeks.

The tension was suddenly cut through by Mary's careful tone.

"In our hearts. He is alive in our hearts, Molly."

Mary. Saving the day.

I was just cruel.

I had given John some form of hope that his best friend was still there, somewhere. But now, apparently it was all just a sentimental outburst.

I needed to leave before I made things any worse.

I took another large drink from my wine, draining the glass.

I wiped the tears from my face and looked up at Mary.

"Why don't you go and get yourself cleaned up. The bathroom is the first door at the top of the stairs."

**Sherlock**

My mind had moved on to other subjects.

Subjects such as Moran.

**_Wiggins needs to come over again. Not now though. Molly will be back soon. Not enough time. _**

The Web Case. Wiggins and I were both stuck at how we would take down some of its members. We needed to play it safe. I couldn't risk letting Moran or the more dangerous associates learn that I was still alive and well._ I _somehow needed to take them down without _me _really being there. I needed to operate it behind closed doors.

I had the homeless network, but their talents stretched only so far. I needed something better something more...more...scandalous.

Scandals. They worked.

Yes.

Easily operated from behind closed doors.

Worked on a big scale.

Most of all, they got people's attention.

Normal people liked a good, old, scandal.

You saw them all the time, dominating the front pages of tabloids and gossip magazines. They dragged people's awareness away from the important things, things like politics... world affairs...criminal masterminds...and...me.

**Molly**

When I had removed the dark lines that were streaming down my face, very throughly and looked as if I might have only had a small snivel, not a massive out-pouring of mild depression/guilt, I walked back down to the kitchen.

When I reached the living room door I stopped. Mary and John hadn't noticed me and they seemed to be talking rather sternly to each other.

The night had started out so well...

Well, if I listened more closely now it seemed to me that Mary seemed to be doing the stern-talking. John was just pleading with her.

I hope that she hadn't taken John's pitying, hand-grasping as something else.

I really was a bad omen.

I continued to listen. I eventually managed to catch what Mary was saying to John.

"John. I thought you were over this."

He just looked at her, practically begging.

She continued.

"I thought that we had gotten past that. You _know_ it is impossible."

'I know, but I just can't help thinking that -"

"-He fell off a roof-" Mary interrupted, placing a hand on John's cheek.

My seeds of doubt had been planted deep in a man's brain who didn't know the meaning of impossible.

"-Yes, but you never knew him Mary, he was a _brilliant _man. _Brilliant._ A small part of me still thinks that he could have-"

John's eyes flicked towards where I was standing. I smiled. Trying to relive the tension just slightly.

"I'm all done. I think I better be off now." I said, glancing at my watch.

"Oh, okay Molly, thanks for coming over though." She smiled half heartedly. I knew that they both wanted me gone so they could patch up the damaged I'd done.

John fetched my backpack; I left the choclates on the kitchen table and then they both showed me to the door.

"Thank you for having me. I'm sorry for popping up on you like this. Thank you though. Thank you for everything."

I sincerely meant it. My eyes shifted between both of them.

"Don't mention it Molly," Mary said, pulling me into one of her rather nice, bone-crushing hugs.

I looked at John and hugged him too. As I pulled away, he said something quietly, but seriously, looking into my eyes;

"Just remember what I said."

"I will. I will never forget it." I replied.

Another final 'thank you' and I was out of the door and finally waiting at the bus stop.

**Sherlock**

I texted Wiggins the development:

**_New development: We need a Scandal. Meet at same flat on Wednesday at 9:30am precisely - SH_**

Ooh, this case was getting rather more thrilling.

How would I carry out this scandal?

I didn't know.

No doubt I needed help.

But from who?

I'm sure that Wiggins knew someone, somewhere that could possibly help with a scandal. Someone who knew their way around these things...

...Someone who was remarkably intelligent in that area...

...Someone who had a penchant for a power play...

...Someone I knew...

...Someone who was supposed to be dead as well...

...A certain, Woman...


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - (I apologise if this chapter is very long as well :/ its just it is quite important ;) ) 2 weeks later - Molly can't take it, Sherlock can't take it, Wiggins has to take his feet OFF! and IT happens.

* * *

Chapter 7

**Molly**

2 weeks had gone by and Sherlock still slept on the couch.

Every time I left for work I merely said "Bye" and walked out the door. No kiss on the cheek, no tender hug, nothing.

We had been in a silent argument for 2 weeks.

He still hadn't bothered to say sorry.

**Sherlock**

2 weeks had gone by and one thing was progressing slightly more than the other.

I should just say that, me and Molly weren't on the best of terms at the moment and this had resulted on me sleeping on the couch for the past 2 weeks.

I wish I knew what to do.

I needed her help.

I also needed a softer mattress.

**Molly**

'Maybe if I talked to him it might help?' I thought to myself as I absently ran the scalpel down a large man's chest cavity.

'What about though?' I questioned.

What current topics would interest Sherlock?

I could ask him about the Moran case I suppose.

It was a bit of a dry topic.

Maybe I should try and make up with him?

What had caused the fight in the first place?

John.

Yes.

I mean I could always tell him about that...

Don't be silly Molly. If he found out that I had made John more suspicious I would simply make it worse.

Mind you, this had been the initial reason why I had kept so quiet in the first couple of days. I hadn't wanted to risk letting slip that John thought that he was still alive because of me.

I had been under so much pressure these last 2 weeks. It would probably do me the world of good if just let it go.

**Sherlock**

Wiggins had come round today.

We had talked about the use of a scandal in the case, to help its along it's way.

He was sat on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table. I was sat in my armchair plucking at my violin's strings.

"So...say it to me again Sherlock, who is this...Woman?"

I sighed. I'd been over this part at least 4 times now.

"_The _Woman. She is a dominatrix. She is very skilled in the art of scandals. I was involved with a case with her where she was in possession of some rather compromising photos to do with a certain member of the royal family."

"Okay...but are you sure she will _help_ us? I mean you were supposed to be putting that woman - The Woman - behind bars for her 'scandals'."

"She will help us. I trust her. To an extent. All I want from her are some tips. I don't know much about catching the attention of the tabloids."

"So you've phoned her and invited her over for dinner?"

"No. Not for dinner Wiggins, for a chat."

"Like I said, for dinner."

Wiggins really could bring out the worst in people.

"Why would I want t-" I stopped myself, "Oh never mind."

"More tea?" I asked, picking up the teapot and pouring some into my own cup.

"Yes please. Do you have any biscuits?"

"Yes, they're just over he-"

I was cut off mid sentence by the sound of the front door opening and Molly standing in the hallway with a confused expression, plastered on her face.

Crap.

"Molly!" I smiled through gritted teeth, slightly angered, "can't you just _text_ _me _when you're coming home?!"

"WHAT IS THIS?!" she shouted back, pointing between me and wiggins as if to insinuate that I had been having some sort of affair with a homeless man.

**Molly**

He was just sat there, with the grubbiest looking young man I'd ever seen. He was almost defiantly one of his 'homeless network'. I don't know why I was so angry, but I think It was some thing to do with the fact that he had his feet on my coffee table.

"GET YOUR FEET OFF!" I bellowed, striding towards him.

He obeyed and looked very frightened.

"I think I'd best be off..." he said quietly, quickly grabbing his bag and heading for the door.

"Molly, you can't do that-"

"-YES I BLOODY WELL CAN! ITS MY HOUSE! NOT A BASE FOR YOUR HOMELESS NETWORK!"

Oh this felt quite good. I had needed this.

"I was working on the Mora-"

"I DONT CARE SHERLOCK! DO YOU THINK I CARE?! SOMETIMES I WANDER WHETHER YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT _ME_!"

"-What? Why? Why would you say that?" he stammered, put slightly off guard by my accusations.

"OH DON'T PRETEND LIKE YOU DONT KNOW!"

"I seriously don't have a clue."

"THE OTHER WEEK! YOU DIDN'T EVEN SAY SORRY."

"Oh." he realised, "Sorry...?"

"Don't try it Sherlock. Just don't." I slumped down into the sofa, burying my face into my hands.

He sat down beside me and placed a hand around my shoulder.

"Is there anything else? You've come home half an hour earlier than usual and I don't think it was to shout at me."

His tone made me relax more. He was calm therefore I was calm.

"Yes. There is."

**Sherlock**

"What? What's wrong?" I said, pulling her closer to me.

"You promise not to get angry. You don't know how hard it was for me." She murmured as she leant her forehead on my shoulder. I stroked her upper arm, showing her that I promised.

"After we had that fight a couple of weeks ago, I went away."

"Yes," I encouraged.

"Well, I decided to go to Mary and John's house. They'd said I was welcome and I needed someone who would take me in."

Okay, so she'd gone to see John and Mary. I couldn't see the big problem here.

"We'd gotten talking and I'd bought them presents, etc. However, before I'd bought the presents I had got us some essentials; Coffee, Nicotine patches and um...um...condoms."

Why did she have to wince so much? It was a perfectly normal thing to buy.

"When I got out the presents I had bought, all my shopping split onto the floor."

"Molly, I don't see what you've done wrong." I said, placing my other hand on the top of her head and stroking her hair.

"I'm not quite done. When everything fell out he saw the nicotine patches and thought that I had taken up smoking. He wanted to know why. I said that it was because I was still missing you. He said that I shouldn't lapse. He said that I should keep strong. He said that he wished that you were still alive Sherlock. You don't know how much it hurts to know that you have to lie though your teeth to such a good man. I didn't know how much longer I could keep it up."

"Molly, I do understand. I wish he could know." I whispered to her. She looked up at me teary eyed.

"I know you do. But..."

"What do you mean _but_?" I asked, unwrapping myself from her.

"It was just so much..."

"Yes...?" I spurred on

"I might have..." she continued.

"You might have _what_?" I said, getting increasingly more tense.

"I might have suggested that you were alive."

"What?" I barley even whispered; shock taking over my body and my hands coming up to press against my face.

"I'm _so _sorry. You don't know how sorry I am. This is why I have been so quiet for the past 2 weeks. I was worried how you'd react. John sort of thought that you _might _be alive but he strongly doubts it. Mary has sorted it all out I think."

I din't say anything. I cut out. I think my brain just went: "You know what, we both can't do this for any longer. It's too hard."

I was ready.

Today would just have to be the day.

She'd planted a seed of doubt in his mind and there would be no removing it. It was possibly one of the better times to break it to him. If I didn't do it now he would come looking for me. He knew how. He'd spent too long with me for nothing to rub off on him.

I got up and went over to the coat stand. I grabbed our coats, scarves, hats and shoes.

"Sherlock what are you doing?" Molly asked when I gave her her coat and shoes.

"Were going to see John."

**Molly**

I didn't have the courage to speak to him in the taxi.

I was too nervous.

How the _hell _was John going to react when he realised that I had lied to him all this time and that, in fact, last night was a small nugget of the truth.

I was shaking slightly.

I don't know whether I could even get out of the taxi once it had stopped.

It felt like forever, but when we finally got to the front door I was told to stand behind Sherlock while he rang the doorbell.

Each footstep that I heard coming towards the door felt like one massive kick in the stomach.

The door finally creaked open and Mary was standing there; for a couple of seconds she looked very confused at this shabby, tall, brooding man looking quite pleased with himself.

Oh he was _very _good at this.

She saw me and then it all seemed to happen very, very quickly.

Mary looked between me and Sherlock, John came around the corner, the breath left his lungs. His whole body tensed up and his fists clenched into balls.

"SURPRISE!" He gleefully sang, shaking his hands like he was in a play.

John's breathing got faster and Mary seemed to catch on, all of a sudden I was being pulled inside the house and into Mary's arms. I couldn't see anything because Mary was pressing my head against her shoulder. However, I heard a massive 'Slap' and a 'Crack'. When I looked up Sherlock and John were both struggling with each other on the doorstep. I could hear muffled cries of; 'YOU BASTARD!' and "HOW DARE YOU SHOW UP HERE!"; coming from John and Sherlock seemed to not be saying anything. He was just taking it on the chin (quite literally) because he knew he deserved it all he seemed to be doing was keeping John from _properly_ killing him.

Mary and I just watched.

"Is he Sherlock by any chance?" She finally said. Half laughing.

...And_ Breathe_...I could breathe...Finally after 10 or so months I could actually say his name without having to look over my shoulder to see whether someone had noticed.

I laughed lightly at her question simply said, for the first time, the truth;

"Yes, yes it is."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - a bash up, a make up, another make up and an unexpected visitor -

sorry if this chapter is quite sherlock dominated, i do apologise...from the bottom of my heart...

* * *

Chapter 8

We had been watching Sherlock and John take the stuffing out of each other until John decided to lunge for Sherlock's throat.

It was a good idea to step in.

I grabbed Sherlock off the floor and Mary restrained her husband.

"I think maybe it would be better to talk this over." Mary suggested, "Why don't you all come inside and we'll get you patch-"

"No." John interrupted, " I am not having this moron in our new house."

Have gave Sherlock a steely glare.

"He'll either have to talk to me now or we'll go back to wherever this git has been staying these past 10 months."

I stopped. Thought whether to say anything, but decided. No more lies.

"I think it's probably best if we go back to my flat. It's near and it is where Sherlock has been staying." I said as happily as I could manage, in the current situation.

I waited for the verdict.

"What?!" he spat through gritted teeth, "You mean to tell me that all this time I have been confiding in you, Molly Hooper, you've had him tucked up, nice and snug at home?!" So what you said the other night was true, was? You lied to me all this time too?!"

I just looked at the floor. I didn't have anything to say in return. Nothing would help.

"Honey, I think you should just try and calm down..." Mary said, taking a step towards him.

"CALM?! My friend who I believed to be DEAD for 10 MONTHS has just turned up on my doorstep and you expect me to be CALM?!"

John was practically shaking with rage.

"Maybe we should start heading towards a taxi." I suggested to Mary, tentatively.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea." She threw John a disapproving glance, "You and Sherlock get a head start, I'll meet you at the top of the road."

**Sherlock **

It was out. No more lies.

He had given me a face full of bruises nearly strangled me in the process, however I felt that it was worth it.

Molly walked beside me. Silent. She felt guilty somewhat.

Playing with hem on her coat. Her anxiety tick.

She was so bad at keeping her emotions under wraps.

I told her it was all fine now by slipping my hand around her waist, pulling her over into an empty door way, pressing her against the wall and kissing her passionately until I felt that she'd gotten the message.

"So you're not angry with me anymore?" she breathed.

"No. Far from it." I kissed her blushing cheeks several times, "I'd actually like to thank you."

"What for giving away that you're alive, to the very person who shouldn't have known?" She laughed, kissing my cheek in return.

"Yes. To be honest I'm very glad. Now I have someone to show you off to."

She smiled gleefully and grasped my cheeks with both her hands, pulling me down to her height.

"You show off."

She kissed me firmly on the lips and turned me around so that we could walk to the end of the street hand in hand.

When John and Mary finally reached the end of the street we unhooked hands and I hailed a Cab.

The journey back to Molly's wasn't one of the most enjoyable I'd ever experienced.

We sat in silence.

John simply stared at me. Stared daggers. All the way back home.

I stared at the floor but every now and then I would chance a look in his direction.

Mary stared at John. She was surprisingly annoyed with him in all of this. She did shoot me a couple of looks though.

Molly stared at Mary mostly. She was trying to avoid eye contact with John because he wasn't pleased with her either. She threw a few glances towards me, brief ones, but I knew perfectly well what she meant.

I would talk with her later.

We finally arrived at number 142, Gloucester Place. I was finally able to relax in my armchair again and try to sort things out properly with John.

I sat down and Molly took the seat closest to me on the sofa and Mary sat next to her eventually, after trying desperately to get John to sit down and 'be civil'.

He refused. Naturally.

We were silent for a very long time.

No one wanted to speak.

Nonetheless, John happened to be the first.

"So, why Sherlock? Why?" he asked.

"You don't want to know how I faked it?"

I was pretty sure that that would have been his first question.

"No Sherlock." He forced, "I am not giving you a chance to show off your intellectual prowess. I just want to know why."

"Well..." I replied hesitantly, looking around at everyone in the room, "I...I did it to save you."

John's expression - which had been the same mixture of hatred, confusion, disbelief and anger the whole way here - changed. This time he only looked confused. Not angry or hating.

"What do you mean, 'to save' me?" he asked, craning his neck forward so he could properly hear my explanation.

"Moriarty gave me a choice. I either died in disgrace - a fake - or I saved myself and watched all my friends die in front of me. One by one."

Mary and John both looked at me with open mouths.

Molly simply looked ay me.

Gazed at me, if we are going to be specific.

She had heard this tale a million times before. She had nothing to be surprised about.

"W-what so he would have killed me?" John enquired.

"Yes, you, and Lestrade. Moriarty had a long-distance rifle pointing at each one of the people closest to me and would have shot you if I hadn't jumped. Therefore I enlisted the help of Miss Molly Hooper here to devise a way in which I could jump but not die. I trusted her enough to not tell anyone as she was the only person to know that I was alive."

The sentence that Molly had said all those months ago rang in my ears; 'I don't count' ; Now I realised how perfect that statement was. She didn't count to Moriarty. Moriarty had never even thought about pointing a rifle at her. Therefore, by not counting she did, actually, count. She was so underestimated that even she thought herself to be useless. But now, she had become the most important person in my life. Soppy, I know, but it was true. I doubt that I would have even made it through my 'death' without Molly.

I quickly gathered my thoughts back to the situation at hand.

"Thank you." John choked, coming to sit on the arm of the sofa, next to Mary. He grasped her hand and swallowed all his rage.

"I guess I should really be making an apology then." he half-laughed.

"No John, I should too. I'm sorry. I can't possibly imagine what I'v-"

"-I don't think you could." He assured, "But without this, one of us would be dead. You gave me a life and good things have happened while you've been gone."

He turned his full attention to Mary.

I glanced at his neck, where the glint of a thin, gold chain could be seen. The same could be seen on Mary's. The shapes under their shirts were distinctively of rings.

When Molly had told me they were engaged I had gotten angry. Now, seeing them together, didn't make me angry, it made me happy that John had been looked after. As Molly had cared or me. If I couldn't see why the had to be together, then I could properly count myself as stupid.

The previous tension in the room had evaporated, leaving us with the holes that my antics had made in each of our lives. Hopefully they could be patched up quickly.

"Tea anyone?" Molly asked, moving from her seat to the kitchen.

Mary took hers with three sugars and lots of milk, John as ever with no sugar and milk, Molly with one sugar and milk and I had coffee. Black 2 sugars.

We had all been sipping at our chosen beverages when Mary turned to John and whispered about something in his ear. They had a short conversation in which they exchanged a couple of nods, however when they were done John turned to me.

"Sherlock, Mary and I are going to get married."

"I know." I replied shortly.

"Of course you bloody do. I'll have to re-adjust myself to living with a total know-it-all again." he chuckled, "Next thing then. Would you like to be best man?"

"John I don't see how this is goi-"

"Nonsense, Sherlock. All you have to do is stand up in front of so-" He stopped, realising what I was getting at, "Oh."

"Yes, I really don't see how I will be able to make a speech in front of a room of people that still think I'm dead." I reiterated.

"Yeah, that is a slight snag. Do you know when you're going to break it to the rest of the world?"

"No, not quite yet, I'm working on it though."

We had covered many different conversational topics in the past 30 minutes. I had found that John had become a GP at a local surgery. Mary was a midwife who took care of parents before and after the birth. She worked at Bart's. John's sister had moved to Wales. John still saw Mrs Hudson on a regular basis (She insisted). Mary had tried talking John into getting a Dog.

We had been gossiping away.

Molly and Mary were having their own little discussion and John was starting to ask me about what I'd done in my 'free time'.

I didn't want to go there. It was very wobbly territory. I didn't really know what to say, so I called across the room at Molly.

"Molly, could I talk to you outside please?"

We both exited the flat, I propped the door open with a spare shoe I found next to it.

"What do I say?" I asked, looking at her.

"About us?" she questioned, biting her lip.

"Yes. Do I just tell them, or do I leave them guessing?"

"That's exactly what I've been thinking. Maybe it would be too much of an overload for him to find out that you suddenly turned into a complete love-lorn sop."

I gave her an annoyed glare. I was not a 'love-lorn sop'. I was just more comfortable with the notion of affection.

"Maybe. But, should we hint at it? I mean break it slowly to him. He will have to find out eventually."

"Yeah good idea. But what, do you mean hold hands in front of him?"

"No." I thought, "Maybe just little things like being incredibly close to each other."

I demonstrated it by turning molly around so that her back was pressed into my front and I nuzzled the nape of her neck.

"Maybe without the nuzzling, Sherlock. They might get suspicious." She murmured in a sultry tone.

I untangled her and we walked back into the room.

I sat back down and John rolled his eyes.

"You'll really do anything to avoid a question, won't you?"

"So I'll ask it again then; What have you been doing in your time off?"

Drugs.

Molly.

"Oh. Nothing much. You know, just trying to dismantle a criminal web." I mocked.

SLAM!

The door flung open and there, in Molly's hallway stood a tall, black haired, expensively dressed woman.

"Hello darlings, I'm back. Oh, Holmes...I thought we'd be alone." Purred Irene Adler.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - Irene, Irene, Irene and stuff no one wants to hear

This chapter is entirely Molly. I guess I thought that it would be nice to see her reaction to Irene but I think I got a bit carried away...sorrryyyy :)...

* * *

Chapter 9

**Molly**

The most beautiful woman stood in my hallway. Her make up was perfect. Her hair was perfect. Her clothes were obviously expensive.

"Hello darlings, I'm back. Oh Holmes...I thought we'd be alone."

She just oozed sexiness. I felt almost uncomfortable in her presence, being as prude as I naturally was.

And she seemed to be flirting - no this was far more mature than silly flirting. If you could look at someone and kiss them then she had planted about a thousand on my man.

I turned a deep shade of red as she directed the most suggestive smile towards his piercing eyes.

She waltzed - no, glided - over Sherlock but was stopped dead in her tracks by John suddenly screaming out;

"WHAT IS _THIS_!? BLOODY DAY OF THE BLOODY DEAD?!"

She had turned her head in his direction.

"Oh yes, John, how are you?"

"How can _she _be _alive _Sherlock? She was captured by _terrorists _and behead-." He pointed towards the woman in question.

"-Oh details, details..." she dismissed with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand.

She began moving towards Sherlock again and sat on the arm of his chair. Directly separating me from him and making me watch as she toyed with his curls and stroked his cheekbones.

That's my job, I thought. Getting very jealous.

My cheeks burned until Sherlock batted her hand away from his face.

I had to do my best to suppress a smile as he defended himself from this woman who seemed to have no boundaries.

"Irene. I don't think we can have this meeting now." He said, gesturing to the other people in the room.

"Oh I was looking forward to it." She moaned, "I might have finally been able to have dinner with you."

Dinner? They had arranged to have Dinner?!

"I wasn't going to have dinner with you. You know what I called you for."

Good.

"Oh Sherlock, you're no fun!" she said, standing up and slapping him across the shoulder. I wouldn't say she did it playfully. By the looks of it, it seemed that it rather hurt.

"I'll rearrange a time with you-"

"-Tomorrow at four." She demanded.

Sherlock looked perplexed and so did everyone else. I had never seen anyone pull 'a Sherlock' on Sherlock. It was like watching some sort of wildlife documentary.

It seemed to have shut him up. Maybe I could learn a few things from her?

"What was that Sherlock dear? Would I like some tea? Oh yes that would be marvelous, Thank you."

She commanded him so easily. It was practically scary. No one had seemed to have spoken.

Sherlock got up without question and moved to the kitchen. She sat in his armchair and pulled a phone out of her pocket. She texted away, only breaking when Sherlock delivered the ordered tea.

We all just stared at her until she finished, put down her phone and stood up.

"That'll be all then." She waltzed up to Sherlock, grabbed his jaw in a rather forceful manner and kissed him, flush, on the mouth.

She turned back to her phone and gave a small wave as she exited the flat, not looking up from the screen of her phone.

Silence.

The quiet was only broken by the 'pinging' sound of my text alert.

I looked at the message I had received.

**_Well done Miss Hooper. You beat me to it - Irene_**

**Half an hour later**

John and Mary decided that it was probably time to leave. It was currently 7:30pm. I thought so too. It had almost been too much to try and keep my actions towards sherlock to a minimum. To be honest, now I thought back I wondered how I had managed previously.

We led them to the door.

"So, John, I'll be getting to see a lot more of you obviously. How about coming over on Monday to help me out on the Moran case?" Sherlock asked cheerfully.

"No Sherlock."

"Why?" he pestered.

"I have a job, I make an actual _living_ now. I can't just come in at the last moment. Its going to take a lot of work to get back to where we were."

The look on Sherlock's face was something to behold. Complete and utter disappointment.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

We finally closed the door and we both leant against it with a big expulsion of breath.

Laughing, we both looked over at each other. Leaning in we met in the middle and the kiss was testing at first - making sure we were both alright after 2 weeks of separation - but it quickly got more passionate. I placed my arms around his neck and he lifted me up so both my legs were entwined around his waist. We were so encompassed in the relief that we could get back to each other that Sherlock didn't see the coat stand. He tripped backwards and immediately shielded my head from the fall.

The crash seemed to have caught someone's attention on the other side of the door.

"Are you all right in there?" shouted John.

For the sake of our dignity, Sherlock shouted back in a strangled cry;

"Yes, we're-I'm fine."

"Okay...Bye then..."

"Bye." Sherlock hurriedly dismissed, turning back to me.

**4:15, The next day**

I came home from work and she was sat there, In Sherlock's chair.

"Ahh, Molly...You've come to join us. Nice day at work?" She smoothly, giving me the look.

'Um..yes..." I replied, unsure whether she was even looking for a response.

She didn't as she quickly turned back to her phone and Sherlock gave me a look that just said 'I'm so sorry.'

'Molly," Sherlock continued as Irene tapped away at the keys on her phone, "Would you like to hear what Irene and I have been talking about?"

"Don't bore her Sherlock." Irene drawled. Sherlock shot her a dirty glance. "Let me speak. I'd like to ask miss Hooper some questions if you wouldn't mind. You refuse to cooperate-"

"Don't go there Irene." Sherlock interjected angrily.

"And I believe that Molly would be a lot more eager to divulge, if she doesn't then I'll just have to use the right...lets say...encouragement..." I was worried. What did she mean by 'encouragement'?

"So Molly-" she started.

"Stop." Sherlock forced.

"I suppose you got my text."

"Yes. I did." I answered.

"What text?!" Sherlock asked, very agitated. Irene carried on, paying no attention to the silly man, looking increasingly more confused and bewildered.

"I just want to know. How did you do it?"

"Well...um...I don't really..." I looked over at Sherlock who seemed to have admitted defeat and was just nodding at me with his head in his hands. "I guess that it just happened...?" I continued.

"No. Silly girl, you do not just happen to make the man with no heart fall desperately in love with you. Don't bore me, tell me, details _please._"

She was quite oppressing. She knew how to handle people.

I was trying to think of a way to say everything she wanted to know.

"Well I guess, Sherlock had been livi-"

"-Irene. I relapsed. I was on drugs."

I think I looked surprised...my mouth was definitely open more than usual.

"Oh, we're getting somewhere now." She smirked, happy that she'd gotten some gossip, "Really Sherlock, what was it this time? Was it just Cannabis or was it Heroin too?"

"Both actually. But I'm fine now."

"Yes, you've found a great replacement." She taunted.

"No. Molly isn't my replacement. She's the one that helped m-"

"-_Replacement._" She finalized as she turned back to me, "Back to what I was saying Molly, do please continue."

"Well, um, Sherlock was on drugs and one day I came back to find that he'd trashed my flat and was basically passed out. He had hurt himself and I was trying to tend to the wound but he sort of just...kissed me...?"

"How sweet." She said patronizingly, "And you didn't even have to do anything..." She turned to Sherlock now, sitting on the edge of her seat, staring him very closely, disapprovingly almost, "Our favourite 'sociopath' fallen head over heels. Pulling the first move; who'd have know it?"

"We're done talking, Irene, I think it best you leave." Sherlock put, very straightly.

"No. I shan't. I'll leave when I like. I'd like to hear more about you two. Tell me, Molly dear, how did you managed to bed him?"

Irene moved her hand onto my face and I whimpered slightly at her touch. Sherlock quickly grabbed her wrist away from my face and made her get out of his chair.

"Time to go." He said as he led her to the door, swiftly taking up her coat and handing it to her as the threshold opened.

"Goodbye." He hurried, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.

"Goodbye Mr. Holmes, until next time." She said moving in for a kiss, he just moved out the way and shut the door.

**One Month Later**

Sherlock decided to tell Mrs Hudson. I invited her over for some tea and a chat. Sherlock came in from the bedroom after I told her to have a seat. A lot more blows to the head were thrown in his direction. She got over it far quicker than John though. Eventually the smacks turned into tearful hugs of relief.

We also decided to tell Mrs. Hudson there and then, that we were together. She seemed initially surprised but was also grateful that Sherlock had found a 'nice, good, loving girl' to care for.

We also eventually told John. That was a lot more interesting.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Molly, so any news on the boyfriend front?" Mary pestered, yet again.

"Um, actually-"

"-Me." Sherlock said proudly and unexpectedly. We had agreed to tell them, however it did startle me slightly.

Nevertheless, John's reaction was far more impressive. He spurted his coffee out and his jaw just dropped.

"Ex-ex-_excuse me?!_" He stumbled, giggling slightly.

"You heard me John." Sherlock said, not remotely surpassed by what he had just announced.

"Yes I _heard _you. But this is a Joke."

"No. Why would it be?" he asked, confused by the statement.

"Well, for one thing..._you, a_nd another, just...no."

"I don't see what you mean. I'm perfectly capable of a relationship. Molly and I have been in a fully functioning, se-"

I quickly smothered his mouth to stop him saying anymore than anyone needed.

"I think what Sherlock is trying to say is, I and him are going out and we have been for about one and a half months. I know its sort of surprising, him being, well...him, but hopefully it'll work out and...yeah..."

I removed my hand from his mouth and let him breathe.

"Oh...wow...um...I don't really know how to...I guess...Congratulations...and...well..." John was sort of in a haze. Mary quickly interrupted and flew over to me;

"HORRAY!" She cheered, "Finally you have someone to take to the wedding! I seriously was considering trying to hook you up myself. Oh Molly, Well Done!" She unhooked herself from around my neck and planted herself on Sherlock. His face was quite funny.

"And well done mister. You look after her you hear?" She said, wagging a finger in front of his nose. He nodded slightly scared by this seemingly crazy woman.

Pulling back, she asked another question.

"One other thing Holmes, Can you dance?"

"Why?" He questioned, refraining to answering the first question.

"Well, I don't want my Maid of Honor to be dancing with someone with two left feet."


End file.
